


mosaic

by kalypsobean



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, F/M, Light Angst, Social Commentary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:26:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kalypsobean/pseuds/kalypsobean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenna could be happy, perhaps, if only Bash would let her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mosaic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [n0rthern_l1ghts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/n0rthern_l1ghts/gifts).



> For n0rthern_lights, based loosely on the prompt of Kenna pushing Bash in to social climbing.

Kenna refuses to believe that she is stuck for the rest of her life, no matter what anyone tells her, especially Catherine, when she's done something to attract the Queen Mother's attention. So what if she's married to a bastard with a title that doesn't even come with land? She has a place at Court, twice over - once as Bash's wife and once in Mary's household. There are plenty of opportunities to be seized, and she's done enough to have a reputation; people practically fall over themselves to give her what she wants, either because they suspect she'll take it anyway or because they think she can curry favour for them from the Queen and therefore the King.

 

The only one who isn't quite on board with her plan is Bash himself, though in making the best of things she suspects he's actually started to love her, which is nice. She almost regrets pushing him to take on the role of King's Deputy, though, as he's away more and more, until he's gone more than he's there and more than anything she's bored. Without him there, she has nothing to do unless Mary needs her, and lately Mary's been quite self-sufficient. There are meals, of course, and parties, though the more she tries to insert herself into the planning of the celebrations the more it seems she finds barriers. If Bash were here, he would know that Count Such-and-Such shouldn't be seated with the Duke of Somewhere Far Away, but she's reminded again and again that she hasn't grown up here and all these people, though they know her well enough, have a history and a connection that she can't be part of, no matter what she does. And, without Bash, her secret petitioning is limited, because he's the one who has to sign the papers, the one who has to put them before the King.

 

Land would be nice, she decides; a small villa, not too far away from the castle because Bash is always needed, and she knows she couldn't handle being away from Mary for too long. Land would mean income, so she wouldn't have to rely on Bash's small salary to have a new dress for every party, since wearing the same one twice without significant alterations would be socially disastrous. There would be property to manage, and peasants who would bring her their petty claims in Bash's absence. 

It doesn't work out, though, because nobody can hold onto land in a famine, and land is currency, a political gift and a marker of social status.

 

Bash starts to turn inwards soon after the rumours start. As best she tries, he doesn't talk to her, not even when they are in bed and he is sated but not yet asleep. He still trusts her, that much is clear, but it's always for her protection that he doesn't say where he's going, that he leaves a will behind in the carved wooden box on the chest. It makes advancing his position rather difficult, because while she's left behind, all the work she does to boost the nobles' trust in him is torn down by the work he does against them. Even if she knew where he was and could focus her campaign on the landholders not affected by his investigation, he builds a reputation as a sympathiser, and on top of being suspected as a pagan, she feels as if she's starting from nothing at all.

 

Her work for Mary is limited to reporting the gossip and attending to Mary's wardrobe, which doesn't take as much time as she'd like, leaving hours every day empty. Nobody suspects her of being the one who keeps Mary apprised of what they whisper behind her back, but as Bash single-handedly and perhaps even ignorantly tears down their station, she finds herself excluded, hearing more from the servants than the nobles and the ladies. Bash doesn't understand this when she tries to explain. 

"My job is important to me," he says. "I have to be fair."

"But you need to look out for yourself. For me," she says. She deliberately drags her hand down his chest, reminding him that she really means them both, that they are a unit, unable to be wholly separated.

"That wouldn't be justice, would it?" he says, and lifts her hand, rolls to face away from her.

She was mistress to the King of France and she can't even convince her husband to be mindful of his reputation; that is a failure that haunts her when he rides away, again.

 

The one thing that she's not prepared for is this: repairing what's been damaged, when she doesn't know how it's falling apart, and she doesn't have all the pieces to put them back together. There's one thing that should be stronger than anything, and with Bash forever running off, she can feel it slipping between her fingers like the lacework she's always struggled with stitching. She tells herself that he loves her and reminds herself of everything he does to protect her, but it's not enough; it never has been. 

"It's all a mess," she says to Mary, as they walk just out of range of anyone's hearing.

"I know what you mean," Mary says. "But what is there to do about it?"

Kenna thinks on that, as she lies alone, again. Bash isn't one to be turned by jealousy, and he doesn't need her, not in the way Henry did, or the way Mary does; there's no role she can play in his life except as his wife, and he has chosen, without her say, to live in a way that doesn't even require that; all the times that he said he would try, for her sake, feel hollow as she remembers them, like paintings she once saw rather than memories of a thing which happened and made her feel safe.

"Let me go with you," she pleaded, more than once, but he always said the same thing; it's no place for a lady, it's too dangerous, it's not safe for you, I can't protect you.

 

"We should learn to fight," Kenna says to Mary, whispers it in her ear under the noise of the dining hall. "So nobody can do this to us again."

Mary nods, and Kenna resolves to do her best; she will make a place for herself with Bash, she will make herself strong and useful. It will have to be done in secret, of course; though she already has an idea of whom to ask, who would be attracted by the idea of teaching women to use a sword, and where they might go. 

After all, if she can fight, Bash wouldn't need to protect her like that; she can gather evidence from people who would be scared of him, or reluctant to talk with a man, and Bash won't have a reason to always leave her. Then, maybe, there will be time for more. Perhaps if they could be together, away from Court as they once had dreamed, they could take the time to learn each other properly, for more than scant hours between crises and councils and parties and dances. 

Perhaps the pieces would fit together, and there would be hope.

And perhaps, one day, they could have their own land; even just a cottage, with a garden big enough to walk in on a sunny day. And a title; a proper one, that carried over to her and could be passed down.

Kenna could be happy with that.


End file.
